"You can have the option," said the printer, who could not yet be called a newspaper proprietor, because his journal was in embryo.
"Have you got some bold type? Big letters?"
"Yes. My plant is small at present, but I can do job printing as well as newspaper work. That's what I'm here for. I shall be getting new type sent out in a week or two."
"Show me 'John Jones' in big letters."
It was done almost instantaneously, and the visitor gazed at the name approvingly. It was his own.
"Now, underneath, 'Beehive Stores.'"
The letters were put together, and the printer said, "That will look well, right across the page."
John Jones nodded again. "Now, underneath that, 'The Beehive, the Beehive, The Only Beehive. John Jones John Jones, The only John Jones. Look out for the Flag, Painted by the Finest Artist of the Age.'"
"Go slow," said the printer. "All right, I'm up to you."
"Buy everything you Want," proceeded John Jones, watching the nimble fingers with admiration, "'at the only Beehive, of the only John Jones. Groceries, Provisions, Clothing of every description, Picks and Shovels, Powder and Fuse, Candles, Tubs and Dishes, Crockery, Bottled Ale and Stout, Everything of the Very Best. The highest price given for Gold. Come One, Come All. The Only Beehive. The Only John Jones. The Flag that's Braved a Thousand Years the Battle and the Breeze. Good luck to all.' There, that's the advertisement. Spread it out, you know. Here's the hundred pounds. You might give me a paragraph."